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“Cultural affairs, he—”

Bacco snorted. “Cultural affairs. Which means, in real terms, he’s as much of a nobody as an admiral can be and still wear that ugly uniform. And if he knows about this

” She shook her head. “Dammit all, Starfleet knew about this, too. And hushed it up.” Slamming her hand on the desk, she asked, “What the hell kind of government are these jackasses running?”

“Governor—”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no.” She looked at Pińiero. “That’s why Zife and Azernal really resigned, isn’t it?”

Slowly, Pińiero nodded.

“This is insane. Hell, at this point, I’m not sure I want the damn job.”

“Governor, there’s more.”

Bacco finally sat back down. “I’m an old woman, Esperanza. Please keep that in mind before you put any more strain on me.”

At that, Pińiero actually smirked. “It won’t be any worse than all that coffee you drink.”

To Pińiero’s relief, the smirk was returned. “Good point. All right, what’s the other thing?”

“If Upton knows, then there’s a good chance that Abrik knows. Which means—”

Rolling her eyes, Bacco said, “Which means Pagro knows, too.”

“Or he will soon enough.” Pińiero sighed. “Public opinion is pretty divided on the Klingons right now. The war was recent enough for a lot of people to be happy with the alliance, but far enough away that people are wondering what the upside is—especially after Tezwa. Pagro’s counting on that. I’m worried that, if he can’t bully the Klingons his way, he’ll force their hand by revealing that the old administration armed the Tezwans.”

“Which is a treaty violation that’ll give the Klingons all the excuse they need to go to war. Again.”

“And if we win, then Abrik can still reveal it, and cut us off at the knees before you have a chance to settle in.” Pińiero let out a long breath. “So we’re pretty much screwed, ma’am. Unless—”

She let the word hang. I don’t want to suggest this. Come on, Governor, make the leap, figure it out so I don’t have to suggest it.

Bacco gulped down the rest of her coffee. “You’re suggesting we leak it.”

“I’m not suggesting any such thing,” Pińiero said almost truthfully. “But it is an option.”

“Don’t play semantics with me, Esperanza, you’re not as good at it as I am.”

Pińiero smiled wryly. “That’s certainly true, ma’am.”

Bacco got up from her chair and wandered over to the small window that looked out on the Grand Canal. The meeting room upstairs had a nicer view, and Pińiero had expected Bacco to choose it for her office, but Bacco thought it was better to have meetings with a beautiful view so, as she put it, “I’d have something to stare at once you people start boring me to tears.” For her office, she wanted as few distractions as possible.

Patiently, Pińiero waited. She knew that Bacco would make her decision in due time. Pińiero herself had given all the advice she could give, and her best bet at this point was to shut up and wait for her.

“No. Not yet, anyhow.” She turned around and looked straight at Pińiero. “I don’t want to use this unless we’re desperate, and we won’t be there for at least another week yet.”

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Pińiero said, “That’s probably prudent.”

“How the hell did I get here?” Bacco asked as she re-took her seat.

Pińiero frowned. “Ma’am?”

“How did I get to the point where my level of prudency has a direct impact on whether or not the Federation goes to war?”

“Part of the job, ma’am.”

“I don’t even have the damn job yet.” She grabbed the coffee mug, again forgetting she’d finished it. “Dammit all, we need bigger mugs.”

“So you keep saying, ma’am.”

Once again going to the replicator, Bacco said, “I’ve got two more questions for you, Esperanza. One, you sure you don’t want something?”

A sudden wave of thirst came over Pińiero. Now that I’ve finally talked to her about this, I’m parched. “Actually, I’d love a raspberry tea—iced.”

“Coffee, black, unsweetened and tea, raspberry, iced.” The replicator hummed to life, and the two beverages appeared in the slot, steam rising from the coffee